


In Our Veins (Love Runs Strong)

by Kenda1L



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Biting, Blood Drinking, Canon compliant through season 7, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Handwaving Science, M/M, Original Vampire Lore, Pining, SHEITH - Freeform, Vampire Keith (Voltron), Vampires Are Aliens, for obvious reasons, just go with it, kind of, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-18 00:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16984446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenda1L/pseuds/Kenda1L
Summary: Keith wakes up feeling like death run over. It's not surprising, given the amount of Nunvil he'd downed the night before, but he's also pretty sure a hangover shouldn't result in third degree burns from a little bit of sunlight.***Sunlight slices across his forearm, leaving flayed nerve endings in its wake a thousand times more painful than the scar on his face. Keith screeches and rears back, toppling to the floor. He hardly has time to feel the bruise form on his tailbone before familiar ear popping pressure builds in his head and he finds himself gasping and stunned on Shiro’s floor, Kosmo’s whimpers mixing with the ringing in his ears.“Keith? Keith!” One hand clutches his shoulder, hot as a brand through his thin nightshirt while another dances ice cold metal fingers nervously around the death grip Keith has on his own forearm. Keith burns and freezes under Shiro’s care. “Keith, what happened?”He stares at the swath of seared, blistered skin that slashes from wrist to elbow on his right arm. It stands out stark red against the deathly pallor of the rest of his skin. “I...don’t know.”





	In Our Veins (Love Runs Strong)

**Author's Note:**

> Written before season 8, edited after season 8, and completely ignoring season 8 because fuck that noise. Prompted by the lovely people on the Sheith Happens Discord server, I bring to you: pining, confessions, Supportive "Are you hungry?" Shiro, and Vampire "Actually, I'm horny" Keith.

Pale, tepid light filters through the tiny window in Keith’s tiny Garrison issued room and sears through his retinas. The sound that comes out of his throat is one he’s never heard before, much less coming out of his own mouth. He flinches back from the beam with a hiss, wincing as every atom in his body protests. He hasn’t felt this bad since he was six years old, shivering and sweating and miserable with Scarlet Fever. His skin feels tight and sunburnt like it had then, too, but exhaustion weighs like funeral pennies on his eyelids and he’s asleep again before he can panic. 

 

The respite is short lived as the sunlight continues its slow creep over the bedcovers. He whines and scoots away again, spine coming up hard against the wall. Kosmo shifts at the foot of the bed, then flops back over his legs. The warmth of his overheated body feels like heaven. He lays in a heavy, lethargic daze until once more sunlight stings his cheeks. 

 

Rage breaks through his fatigue like a cresting wave of red and with a growl that rivals Kosmo’s, Keith untangles himself from blankets and space wolf and stumbles the few feet between bed and window to yank the curtains closed. 

 

Sunlight slices across his forearm, leaving flayed nerve endings in its wake, a thousand times more painful than the scar on his face. Keith shouts and rears back, toppling to the floor. He hardly has time to feel the bruise form on his tailbone before familiar ear popping pressure builds in his head and he finds himself gasping and stunned on Shiro’s floor, Kosmo’s whimpers mixing with the ringing in his ears. 

“Keith? Keith!” One hand clutches his shoulder, hot as a brand through his thin nightshirt while another nervously dances ice cold metal fingers around the death grip Keith has on his own forearm. Keith burns and freezes under Shiro’s care. “Keith, what  _ happened? _ ”

Keith stares at the swath of seared, blistered skin that slashes from wrist to elbow of his right arm. It stands out dark red against the deathly pallor of the rest of his skin. “I...don’t know.”

 

***

 

Keith stumbles out into the bitter cold desert night and shores himself up against the alley wall behind the restaurant hosting Lance and Allura’s wedding reception. He sighs out the nausea building in his stomach; he’d spent nowhere near enough time in there to be as drunk as he is, but Nunvil is a helluva drink. Sighing again when the first one fails to settle his stomach, he tilts his head back to watch the stars tilt and swirl in the narrow strip of sky not blotted out by the makeshift buildings.

The back door to the restaurant opens, letting the sounds of celebration and Coran’s horrendous karaoke version of  _ I Will Survive _ filter out. Keith knows it’s Shiro without having to look; he closes his eyes and wishes for a cigarette. He’s never smoked, but it seems appropriate, given the mood he’s in.

“Okay?” Shiro settles against the wall next to him, slumping so his shoulder matches up in a long line of heat down Keith’s side. Keith doesn’t open his eyes, but he presses a little more firmly against his reassuring weight. “You and Rolo were going pretty hard at it in there,” Shiro jokes.

“Rolo,” Keith agrees, then blinks his eyes open. “No, wait. Uh.” Shiro’s laugh lights up the pleasure centers in Keith’s brain, sliding down his throat like cold water as Shiro wraps an arm around him and pulls him closer. Keith burbles up a laugh of his own and tilts his head so it lays on Shiro’s shoulder. It jolts with the force of Shiro’s giggles; he’s had more than a little as well; when Keith slits his eyes open and cranes his neck to look at him, his face is alcohol flushed and split with a wide grin. Keith’s eyes catch on his mouth and get stuck there.

Shiro’s laugh slowly peters out. His eyes are so, so dark as they stare down at him, impossibly fond. There are things swimming in their depths, things that make Keith’s lungs jump and tremble in his chest. “Hey,” he says softly, brushing a lock of hair away from Keith’s face and behind his ear. The almost inaudible hum of his Altean arm tickles and thrums against Keith’s eardrums. 

Keith pulls back abruptly. Only Shiro’s arm around his shoulder keeps him from toppling over. He drops his eyes to the dirty asphalt under his uncomfortable dress shoes. “I think. I should head out. Now. Early.”

Shiro’s disappointment is palpable, filling the alley with its claustrophobic presence. “I. Oh. Are you sure?”

Keith pulls his words and thoughts and self together. “Yeah. Can you tell Allura and Lance I wish them well?”

Shiro frowns, looking him over. “Give me a minute, I’ll walk you back.” Keith snorts. More of Shiro’s presence is the last thing he needs right now when he has so little control over himself. Anything could happen right now. For the sake of their relationship, he needs to make sure it doesn’t. 

“I’m fine, Shiro.” He’s not. “I’m not that drunk.” He is. “The Garrison is only five minutes away.” Or more, with the way the sidewalk is listing under his feet. He casually leans one shoulder against the wall again. Shiro looks anything but convinced. “Shiro. Go enjoy the party. I’m a big boy, I can get home on my own.”

Shiro bites his lip, then nods slowly. “I know. I trust you.” He shifts forward, hand hovering in the air between them before settling it on the nape of Keith’s neck. “Can we talk tomorrow? I have something I wanted to tell you.”

Keith nods and dredges up a smile. “Sure.” The unhappy press of Shiro’s lips make it clear that he knows Keith is lying, but he doesn’t push.

“Okay, get home safe.”

Keith grins and salutes him sloppily. “Aye aye, Cap’n.” Shiro huffs out a laugh and shapes his head as he squeezes his hand against Keith’s neck one more time before letting go.

“At ease, Black Paladin.” Keith snickers and waves him off. He waits until Shiro disappears back inside before he lets the smile slide off his face. Digging his hands into his pockets, he turns and exits the alley.

From there, things get blurry.

 

***

 

Shiro leads Keith down to the Garrison Med Bay, avoiding any hallways with windows open to the outdoors.

(“He’s in shock,” Shiro tells Kosmo in his trademark earnest voice as he kneels in front of him. “Teleporting right now could be bad for his health.” Keith snorts but smiles in spite of everything.

“I’m not in shock,” he argues.

“You’re pale as a ghost and shaking.”

“I’m cold.”

“Keith, you’re never cold.” Keith shuts up after that.)

Shiro guides him onto one of the sick beds and Keith would complain about being coddled, but now that the pain in his arm is receding some, the lethargy and aching bones are making a strong comeback, introducing a gnawing pit in his stomach as their newest band member. Keith pets Kosmo absently as Shiro goes in search of a doctor.

“Hello Keith, I’m Dr. Ah Sen.” Keith startles; he hadn’t even realized his eyes had slid closed. When he opens them, his eyes are immediately drawn to Shiro, who’s standing with arms crossed behind the Olkari; he wears his worry open and unashamed on his face. Keith feels bad for putting it there. “So what happened here?”

“I burnt myself,” he says brusquely to avoid the miasma of emotion swirling in his chest. “It’s not that big a deal, it barely even hurts anymore.” He’s not even lying, though Shiro clearly doesn’t believe him.

“Hmm, well, let’s take a look,” Dr. Ah Sen says. Keith offers her his arm wordlessly. “Doesn’t look too bad,” she says after examining it for a moment. Shiro makes a disbelieving grunt.

“Not too bad?” he asks incredulously. “It was blistering and blackened in places!” He steps forward to look for himself. Keith takes the opportunity to look as well, blinking in surprise. The doctor is right, it doesn’t look that bad. If he hadn’t witnessed the the disgusting ruin of his arm himself, he would have assumed it was the result of brushing up against a stove or something. The gnawing feeling in his stomach worsens.

Shiro takes his hand, turning Keith’s arm to and fro as if the burn would reappear if he just tilted it in the right angle. “What?” he sounds as confused as Keith feels.

“Sometimes things look worse in the moment,” Dr. Ah Sen offers with a shrug. Keith holds back his glare through sheer force of will. They are the defenders of the universe; they are nothing if not familiar with assessing injuries on the fly. “How did this happen?”

“Sunlight,” Keith says absentmindedly, the pain and pressure building in his head making him thoughtless. The silence that follows makes him realize just how strange that sounds. He glances up to see Dr. Ah Sen staring at him. Her expression is not comforting. 

“Interesting. From my understanding, your kind does not generally burn in the sun. At least not to this degree,” she continues quickly when Shiro opens his mouth to argue. “How are you feeling, other than the burn?”

“Hung over,” Keith snaps, ready to be done with all this. He just wants to fall into bed and sleep until his stomach stops feeling like it’s eating itself. When the doctor continues to stare at him impassively, he continues. “Tired. Achey. My stomach hurts.  _ Hung over _ . I had a lot of Nunvil last night.” The doctor hums cryptically as she pulls out a pen light and shines it in Keith’s eyes.  He winces back. “It probably wasn’t the sunlight. I was pretty out of it, I must have brushed against the heater or something.” It doesn’t sound very convincing, even to his own ears. “Or maybe I’m having a bad reaction to the Nunvil.”

“Perhaps,” she says as she runs a thermometer over his forehead and behind his ear. Whatever the reading is, she frowns. “Did anything else happen last night?”

Keith’s eyes slide to Shiro and away. “Not that I can remember,” he says truthfully.

“He was fine when he left the reception last night,” Shiro says. Keith grits his teeth as she takes his pulse and blood pressure. When she tries to draw his lip up to look at his teeth, he jerks back, not because of the invasion of personal space, but because he’s suddenly overcome with the desire to bite down on the fingers prodding him. Nausea rises. Shiro moves to his side, laying a comforting hand on Keith’s shoulder. It makes Keith itch all over with the desire for… something. Dr. Ah Sen presses her lips together.

“What _do_ you remember from last night? Specifically, after you left the bar.”

That’s the question he’s been avoiding. “I was really drunk,” he says weakly. Shiro’s grip tightens. Keith finds himself tilting his head to nuzzle against his hand and pulls away sharply. “Not much,” he admits.

“I shouldn’t have left you,” Shiro mutters guiltily, because of course he feels guilty. Keith shrugs his hand off and immediately regrets it when Shiro stiffly takes a step backwards out of his space.

“Nothing? No details at all?” Dr. Ah Sen presses. Keith frowns as she starts to examine him again, feeling along his jaw and turning his head. he digs through the blank spaces of his mind, trying to recall something, anything. For one brief moment, an image of leathery wings flits through his head but it’s gone before he has a chance to cement it in his brain.

Shiro makes a small, shocked noise. “Did Kosmo bite you?”

“What?” Keith touches a hand to the back of his neck, where Dr. Ah Sen is lifting his hair. Pain shocks through him, lancing down his spine and up to his head like a bolt of lightning. 

Dr. Ah Sen lets go of his hair and steps away. “That’s not from the wolf, I’m afraid.” She steps back around so she’s standing before Keith, picking up a data pad and tapping at it. “The good news is that I know what’s plaguing you. The bad news is that you aren’t going to like it.”

Keith’s heart drops and the gnawing in his stomach ratchets up another notch. “Well?” he snaps. Shiro draws close and this time Keith accepts his comfort, leaning into him. The heat of his body lessens the chill he can’t seem to shake.

“I’m afraid you may have been bitten by a creature called a Djanpyr. They’re rare, but the symptoms are rather unique and you are displaying all of them. That, along with the bite, leave me reasonably certain of the diagnosis.”

“And how exactly do you treat it?” Shiro asks tightly. Dr. Ah Sen grimaces. _ Am I dying? _ Keith thinks numbly. His breath sticks in his throat, keeping the question trapped in his chest. 

“Well, that’s a little complicated. The short answer is that you don’t, not really. The long answer is that Djanpyr inject a venom into its victim with its bite. It creates metabolic changes like the ones you’re experiencing currently. Lowered heart rate, blood pressure, temperature. Extreme sensitivity to sunlight, lethargy in the daytime, that sort of thing. You’re very lucky, Keith. If you were fully human, your situation might have been permanent, but your Galran blood is uniquely resistant to Djanpyr venom. It should help to filter it out, though it may take some time.”

Keith lets out the breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding. “So, it’s not terminal?” he asks. Dr. Ah Sen’s eyes widen.

“Oh! No, of course not. Even if you were fully human, you wouldn’t die from it, provided you took certain precautions. As it is, you may have a few lingering effects, but I suspect you should be more or less back to normal in a few phoebs.”

“I’m going to be like this for months?” Keith asks, despairing. He’s the Black Paladin. He can’t afford to be unable to go outside during the daytime. 

Dr. Ah Sen gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m afraid so.” Keith groans and drops his head back against Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro wraps a protective arm around him. _God, he smells good_ , Keith thinks. He finds himself staring at the strong column of Shiro’s neck. He barely hears as the doctor prattles on, but snaps back to attention when she says, “Luckily, there are ways to mitigate the symptoms.”

“Like what?” he asks. Shiro’s arm tightens around him.

“In a word, plasma. Increased levels of white blood cells in your system will help. The venom is robust and will destroy them over time, but with repeated doses, you can reduce the symptoms to nearly unnoticeable levels. Have you noticed yourself having certain...cravings?” Keith is staring at Shiro’s neck again. Yeah, he’s most definitely noticing some cravings. “I’ll take that look as a yes. I should caution you, this isn’t the type of craving you should ignore. The longer you go without supplementary blood cells, the stronger the cravings will get and the more likely it is that you will do something drastic.”

“Oh my God, I’m a vampire,” he says with numb horror. Shiro looks down at him. Keith tears his eyes away from his neck, but there’s no doubt that Shiro noticed. Keith tenses and closes his eyes, waiting for Shiro to pull away with disgust or fear, but he should have known better; Shiro simply pulls him more tightly against him. 

Dr. Ah Sen frowns. “I am not familiar with the term vampire.”

“Mythological blood sucking creatures of the night who burn in sunlight and can change people into one of them with a bite,” Shiro explains with poorly hidden amusement. Keith scowls up at him, failing to see what about any of this could possibly be funny. 

“Well, that certainly sounds similar. It’s possible your world may have encountered Djanpyrs in the past and created a mythology around it. They’re a completely different species, though, so you’re in no danger of turning into one, or spreading the venom. I suspect your mythologies are conflating the creature with its victims. ” Dr. Ah Sen looks back down at her data pad, tapping away. The sound grates on Keith’s nerves, but it distracts him from the pain in his stomach and the fact that he can  _ feel _ Shiro’s heart beating where his wrist lays against Keith’s chest.

“If you’ll excuse me a moment, I can grab you some supplies that will help.” She disappears before Keith can say anything, leaving them alone in the med bay, which is exactly what Keith  _ doesn’t _ want. 

“So, you’re a vampire now,” Shiro says, breaking the awkward silence. “Think you’ll sparkle once you can go out in the sunlight again?”

Keith jerks out of his hold. “This isn’t funny, Shiro,” he hisses. “I’m going to have to drink blood for the next few months!” Shiro’s eyes widen and any trace of levity disappears from his face.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have teased, it was inappropriate.” Shiro frowns and rubs sheepishly at the back of his head. “Regardless of what people think, I don’t always know how to handle difficult situations.” 

Keith deflates. He could sooner stop his heart than stay angry at Shiro. “I know,” he says softly. “I know  _ you _ .” 

_ And that’s the problem _ , he thinks sadly as he crosses the room and sits in a chair as far away as possible. He knows Shiro, knows how he tries so hard to say the right things, follow the right script for fearless leader even when he’s terrified and feels like anything but. Knows that he will pull through anyway and no one but Keith will ever know he harbored doubts.

He also knows exactly how Shiro will reply as Keith says, “I don’t want to hurt anyone because of this.”

Keith should stop Shiro as he crosses the room, should run and put as much distance between them as possible, but exhaustion weighs him down. Shiro kneels in front of him, setting his hands on Keith’s knees. “You won’t. You’ll get through this.  _ We _ will get through this. I’m not leaving you alone in this.”

“You should,” Keith whispers, eyes locked on Shiro’s hands gripping him tight. He’s so tired, and not just from the venom poisoning his veins. The walls keeping his relationship with Shiro safe have been steadily eroding for years now. Seeing Allura and Lance so completely in love and celebrating their union had taken a bulldozer to the crumbling structure, leaving only rubble in its wake. It won’t take much for Shiro to look over the piles and see that the love Keith feels for him is anything but brotherly. “You should go.”

Shiro is silent. Keith can’t bring himself to look up and witness Shiro’s disappointment. “Keith,” Shiro finally says, quiet. Firm. Determined. “Will you please look at me?” He asks as if Keith could ever deny him. Keith looks up. “I have something to say. After I’ve said it, if you still want me to leave, I will.” He waits patiently until Keith nods, sluggish heart in his throat. “Thank you. Keith, I love you.”

Keith blinks, uncomprehending. “What?” he says blankly. Shiro smiles wryly. He’s blushing, but he’s holding Keith’s gaze without falter.

“I love you. You said it to me a long time ago. I’m sorry it took so long to say it back. I hope you’ll forgive me for making you wait.”

“I. Yeah. Of course,” Keith says numbly. His brain keeps stuttering and stalling out, repeating the words over and over, simple to the point of bluntness.  _ I love you, I love you, I love you _ . Doubt fills him suddenly. “Like a brother?” he asks quietly. Shiro looks away for the first time.

“No,” he says lowly. “Definitely not like a brother. But if that’s how you feel then -”

Keith cuts him off with a kiss. It’s short, hard, and to the point, and when he pulls back, Shiro’s eyes are still wide with shock. “Definitely not like a brother.” Shiro’s lips curve molasses slow into a smile Keith wants to taste, so he does. This time he takes it slow, savoring the catch of chapped lips, the scratch of stubble on stubble that neither had had time to shave off in the ensuing urgency of the morning’s situation. The slight sting when Shiro bites gently on Keith’s lower lip like a plea to enter. Keith opens to him willingly. 

Shiro buries his hands in Keith’s hair, tugging just hard enough to send tingles down Keith’s spine. A gasp falls from his lips. Shiro pulls back enough to rest his forehead against Keith’s. “Yeah?” he asks breathlessly. Keith huffs out a laugh.

“Apparently.”

“Duly noted.” Keith drops his head to Shiro’s shoulder, shaking with silent laughter. Shiro pulls him in closer, kissing his temple and carding his fingers through Keith’s hair. “I love you,” he says again, soft and fond. 

“I love you, too.” He feels like his chest is going to burst open and spill joy out between them like blood, and Keith wants to taste it, feel it trickling down his throat and filling him as he swallows it down again and again…

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice, calm and commanding, breaks Keith from the spiral his thoughts are spinning in. He freezes, mouth open, teeth still pressed to the vulnerable skin ever Shiro’s pulse. He tries to pull away, he really does, but his body is refusing to take orders. It’s taking all his willpower just to stop himself from biting down and he doesn’t know how much longer that will last either. A desperate whine tears it’s way out of his throat and his stomach twists and clenches in anticipation. “Shh, it’s okay,” Shiro says in that same implacable voice, petting his hair like the animal he’s become before tightening his grip to shift Keith, not away, but a little lower and further back on his neck. “You can, just not there. If you hit the carotid, I’ll bleed out, but jugular should be fine.”

That’s enough to break the spell over Keith. He jerks back, appalled. Shiro watches him, serene, smile encouraging. “I  _ can’t _ . Shiro,” he says desperately.  _ I can’t do that to you, I can’t hurt you, can’t risk killing you, can’t ask you to take on another burden.  _

“You can.” Keith shakes his head, dizzy with the heady copper scent that surrounds Shiro like a particularly alluring cologne. Shiro stops him with a firm grip on Keith’s face, stroking one metal  thumb against the scar there. His hand easily spans almost half his head and that makes Keith dizzy for far different reasons. “I want you to.”

Keith’s eyes flutter open, surprised at the strength behind the declaration. His eyes have gone dark like storm clouds and his lips are plump and red with blood as he bites the lower one. Keith wonders what it would taste like if he were the one to do the biting. Whatever Shiro sees in Keith’s face must satisfy him, because he smirks and says again, “I want you to.”

The last thread of Keith’s willpower snaps. He darts forward and strikes, just barely remembering to aim for the area Shiro led him to. Shiro give a small, pained grunt as Keith’s Galra teeth pierce his skin but it turns into a quiet moan as he pulls back to suck and lick at the blood that wells up. Keith’s body sings and and relief floods him as the ache that had become nearly unbearable begins to abate until all he can feel is heady pleasure. He recognizes vaguely that at some point he’s moved from the chair to straddling Shiro’s lap, legs and arms wrapped around him like a koala bear. Shiro is hard under him and that too sends a thrill through him. He grinds down, smearing Shiro’s neck with a bloody smile as the other man gasps and lets out a strangled curse. He does it again, then rocks his hips up to press his own erection against Shiro’s hard stomach, reveling in the small sounds and punched out, breathless whispers of his name. Between that, the steady taste of blood on his tongue, and the delicious friction from the frantic pace he sets, he knows he isn’t going to last long. Pleasure ratchets up until Keith’s mouth is more occupied with his own sounds of pleasure than than with licking up the blood still trickling sluggishly down Shiro’s neck.

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you,” Shiro murmurs, sucking a mark of his own into the soft spot below Keith’s ear. “Gonna take care of you, give you everything you need. Come on, sweetheart, come for me.” Keith muffles a loud moan against Shiro’s throat as he shudders and comes. Shiro curses out a word Keith has only heard from him once or twice and grips Keith’s hips hard, grinding up against his ass a handful more times before going tight and still. They hang, suspended in the moment for what feels like eternity before Shiro heaves out a huge breath and collapses back onto the floor in a boneless pile of mush, taking Keith with him. “Wow,” he says giddily.

Keith chuckles, energy zipping through him like ten cups of Iverson’s coffee sludge, but still content to just lay there, pressing his face into the divot between Shiro’s pecs like he’s wanted to ever since Lance’s drunken soliloquy on the joys of motorboating. He remembers too late that his face is likely covered in blood, but no doubt Shiro’s shirt is already ruined, so he just finishes the job of cleaning his face off. Shiro makes a sound of affront but doesn’t stop him, nor does he stop him when Keith pushes his head to the side and uses his collar to wipe away the blood smearing his neck so he can examine the wound. He’s relieved to see that it’s already clotting over. Shiro turns his head back with an indulgent smile. “Don’t worry, you really didn’t take that much. I’m fine.”

“Yeah you are,” Keith says without thinking, then blushes when Shiro throws his head back and laughs. Keith would very much like for the ground to open up and swallow him, but on the bright side, Shiro’s exposed throat elicits nothing more than a desire to mark him up for everyone to see. In the grand scheme of things, a burgeoning possessive streak isn’t the worst outcome.

Keith folds his hands over Shiro’s chest and rests his chin on them. “So,” he says, faux casually, “You have a biting kink, huh?”

Shiro tilts his head up so he can look at Keith. It can’t be very comfortable, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “I have a _you_ kink,” he says, wiping a stray smudge of blood off Keith’s cheek and popping his thumb into his mouth absently. Keith almost can’t stand the sappy flood of endorphins Shiro’s words release, so he drops his head back down to lay a soft kiss against Shiro’s breastbone.

“I love you,” he says again. He will never grow tired of saying it, or hearing it.

“Love you too, baby,” Shiro says, hugging him tight.

Dr. Ah Sen clears her throat. “Shit!” Keith yelps, scrambling up and off Shiro, then drawing his legs quickly to his chest when he realizes how it reveals the wet spot painting the front of his sleep pants. Shiro copies him with a full faced flush. “Uh, doctor, um, we…”

“You know, when I said plasma, I meant giving you transfusions,” she says, hefting a small cooler of what must be blood donations. “But I suppose the traditional route will work just as well, if not better, as long as you’re careful not to take too much at once.”

“Good to know,” Shiro wheezes weakly. “Keith, are you -”

“I’m feeling much better,” Keith interrupts, scrabbling to his feet and bodily pulling Shiro up with him. “We won’t waste any more of your time, doctor.” He steadfastly ignores her knowing smirk, and the realization that Kosmo had been in the room for the whole show, as he calls the wolf over. Kosmo rewards him by shoving his snout straight into Keith’s crotch. “Oh my God,” he whimpers, mortified as he pushes him away and Shiro laughs. “Please just get us out of here.”

Kosmo seems to take pity on them; there’s a moment of pressure, and then they’re back in Keith’s room. Sunlight still streams through the small crack in his curtains, but it’s more of a mild irritant now than anything else. He still smiles when Shiro stalks across the room and yanks them fully closed, then snatches up an abandoned towel and pins that up over the window for good measure. It plunges the room into twilight. “Thanks,” he says softly. Shiro returns and draws Keith into his arms.

“Of course. I told you I’d take care of you.” Keith closes his eyes; he definitely remembers Shiro saying that, and what they’d been doing at the time. 

“I don’t mind you reminding me,” he says as he kisses Shiro again. Shiro grins against his lips.

“As many times as it takes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Why yes, yes I am just corny enough to end it like this. In my head, Shiro has all the memories of the clones and feels them as though they were his own. So when he references those things, it's because for all intents and purposes, he was there for them.
> 
> I can be found on tumblr at [disasterbek-altin](https://disasterbek-altin.tumblr.com), Twitter at [kenda1l1](https://twitter.com/kenda1l1) and Pillowfort at [kenda1l](https://www.pillowfort.io/kenda1l). The latter two don't have much up, but I'm working on it!
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
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